


Headphones & Rain

by dashirunforthecarradio



Category: Angst - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Self Harm, outcast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-18 13:11:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11291370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dashirunforthecarradio/pseuds/dashirunforthecarradio
Summary: The story of two teenagers who pick each other back up with a little help from an old, abandoned park on the wrong side of town.





	1. 1

The tears trickled down her face, matching the slow and calming beat of the song that played in her ears. As usual, her headphones were plugged, blocking out the constant questions of her peers.

“Are you okay? Why do you look so sad? Could you just smile once in awhile?”

Perhaps these were supposed to be words of comfort but the effect it had on her was quite the opposite. She never asked for them to acknowledge her existence, let alone care about her. But contrary to what she wanted, they continued making her feel as if she was some kind of burden. She rushed out of the classroom, the tightening in her chest furthering the effect of the claustrophobic room. 

Despite the music that played, the sound of her footsteps echoed in her ears. As the restroom came into view, the girl exhaled a breath of relief. She walked in, the smell of lavender overtaking her senses. Thankfully no one was in the restroom, giving the girl some time to compose herself. That was if you considered composure breaking down inside a bathroom stall. But this was the only way for her to calm herself. The daily routine was in place. First she broke herself, taking apart every flaw that made up her very existence. Then she attempted to piece herself back together, the jagged edges of her personality always hurting her more in the process. The tears that were once slow and steady were now making their way in short bursts of saltiness. The placating beats that played in the back of her head was averse to the panic she felt spread throughout her body. The pounding of her head paired with her spaghetti legs certainly did not make a good match as her whole body became limp.

She fell to the floor, her head knocking against the stall door causing the ringing in her head to worsen. But the pain she felt in her head could not compare to the agony that pierced her body on a daily basis. She thought by now her coping mechanism would be in effect. Oddly enough, her music was what kept her sane. More specifically, her headphones.

While in a perfect world the girl would be socializing with her peers and actually having some fun, the reality was a stark contrast. The reality of the situation was that a word could not slip from her mouth. It wasn’t that she could not speak, she just hadn’t done it in so long in front of her peers that the feeling of words escaping her felt foreign to her. Thus, she sat in the back of her class, her headphones plugged in, a book always in her hands. Her taste in music varied from hard rock to fifties oldies. Nonetheless, they all achieved the same thing; they all distracted her from the questioning stares of other students. She really could not blame them for finding her odd. She was one of two students who was relentless in the art of keeping to themselves. The other was a rather quiet boy, exceptionally smart, and had managed to acquire the respect of majority of the students and teachers. It always puzzled the girl how everyone so dearly admired the boy who had the same personality as her with the exception of a few phrases that were said when he disagreed with someone. However, she remained grateful to the boy as he removed unwanted attention. She was by no means intellectually inferior to him. After all, the grades she received were no lower than a ninety majority of the time and she was quite content with that.

As the ringing in her head reduced, the girl was brought out of her trance with the smooth voice of Frankie Valli. She found her phone face down on the slightly cracked tile floor of the bathroom stall. She picked it up and checked the time in hopes that she hadn’t been gone too long and still had a few minutes to wander the school. The time read 2:25. The school day ended in fifteen minutes so there was no point in returning to class now. She left the stall and made her way to the mirror. 

As her reflection stared back at her, she noticed how broken she really was.The area around her eyes was slightly swollen due to crying and her nose was red from the constant sniffling. What struck her most was the look in her eyes. Not a single glint of liveliness was present. An almost hollow feeling had settled instead. She turned the faucet to the left, cold water rushing out and dripping onto her fingers. She took a paper towel and slightly dipped it under the frigid water. She then proceeded to press the now wet paper towel to her face. The cool sensation spread across her face providing a temporary bliss for the girl. As the sensation slowly faded, the girl crumpled up the soggy paper towel and threw it into the garbage can that stood next to the sink. With one last look at her phone, she exited the bathroom. 

The hallways were completely empty which was a complete opposite of the chaos that would ensue once the final bell rang. Rather than dwell on the inevitable, the girl took in the light that emitted from the windows and basked in the sound of nothing. She meandered through the hallways, her thoughts swirling like a never ending blizzard. The discreet thump of her heartbeat rang in her ears and suddenly the light that spread throughout the hallways was too much for her eyes. She quickly turned left into a hallway where it was noticeably darker. She reached into her back pocket where her phone lay. The time read 2:39. In matter of seconds, classroom doors would be open and children would be ruining the peace of the hallways with their loud chatter and the rustling of backpacks. Certainly not enamored at the idea of being squished between a bunch of rowdy kids, the girl speed walked to the corner of the dimly lit hallway and let her back rest against the smooth surface of the wall. 

The doors of all the classroom burst open at the same time and the influx of students that were screaming and pushing through to find their way to the exit of the school should have scared her. But by now she was used to the wild personalities of her classmates. Once all of the students had made their way to the main hallway, she stepped out of the dark corner and quickly walked to the classroom her last class was held in. She peered through the glass sliver of the door and saw the lights were off. The classroom was completely empty with the exception of the young boy she held a slight envy for.

Her mind was in a conflict; should she walk in and collect her bag, potentially putting herself directly in the boys line of vision or just go home without her bag and hope that nothing would be stolen from it? Deciding that the books that were in her bag were worth much more than a little self consciousness, she slowly opened the door, a small click resonating throughout the room. The boys head immediately whipped in her direction and even in the dark she felt a slight blush spread throughout her cheeks. 

In a gruff voice he finally spoke, "Your bag is under your chair. People started stepping on it and I didn't want such high quality books to be ruined." He started packing up his own bag and soon the crinkling of papers and zippers closing was the only sound heard. Slightly delayed in her reaction, she gave a curt nod and proceeded to bend down and collect her bag. 

"I assume that is your way of saying thank you. Just try to avoid breaking down in class. People think you are weird and it's starting to get annoying." With that he left the room, leaving the girl alone once again. His words slightly hurt her and tears pricked the surface of her eyes but she knew what he said was true. 

She never liked it when people brought attention to her. However, life doesn’t always go the way you want it to. That's the point in which things began to go downhill. She shook her head in an attempt to get the negative thoughts out of her mind. She swung her bag over one of her shoulders and left the classroom. She walked through the dimly lit hallways and left the school building.

The walk home was filled with grey skies and rain pattering against the uneven sidewalks. Much to her luck, the girl did not know that it was going to rain today and had failed to bring her umbrella with her. She didn't mind though. The rain felt soothing against her skin and provided a sort of serenity even her music couldn't. Her hair was drenched and her clothes felt heavy on her body. She saw her house coming into view, the brown surface setting it apart from all the other houses in the neighborhood. 

Deciding that she would rather not stay at home, knowing that her house would be empty as usual, she continued walking to the park that was a few blocks away. 

Once she reached the park, she pulled open the heavy metal gate and practically ran to the swings. Situating herself comfortably on them, she launched herself into the air and swung back and forth. The rain continuously hit her face and a breeze had started in her direction. She felt so free. A sincere smile overtook her face as she kicked her legs giving her even more momentum to fly up higher. She continued like this until a familiar figure waltzed into the park. Immediately, she halted in the middle of her actions and scrambled out of the swing seat. She grabbed her backpack and walked to the gate, her head held low. Just as she was going to exit the park, she slipped and fell back, dirt splaying her hands in the process. Before she could even register what was happening, two calloused hands roughly picked her up. 

"Damn, you are a walking disaster," a deep voice said. Biting back her tongue, she just rolled her eyes, dusted the back of her thighs, and tried to walk around the tall boy. Much to her dismay, the boy grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Nope, you aren't leaving yet. I need a swing buddy." The girl gave him a questioning look. Two things came across her mind; he had basically called her annoying earlier and he barely knew her. So why was he acting like they were friends? Instead of responding to him, she attempted to leave once again. Similar to the first time, she was pulled back against her will. This time he steered her in the direction of the swings while he walked behind her. Not wanting to fight back and just get whatever this was over with, she sat down on the swing. He did the same and grabbed the chains that secured the swings.

With one push of his leg, he was off the ground, legs splaying in the air. He looked to his left whilst swinging and noticed the girl remained still on the swing, a frown overtaking her face. “Why are you just sitting on the swing?” She didn’t reply as usual. Getting irritated by her silence, he got out of his seat and positioned himself behind hers. He gave her a powerful push, sending her high up into the air, at an altitude she could never achieve by herself. A small squeal of excitement and fear slipped from her mouth as she swung back and forth, “Oh, she makes sounds?” he said, sarcasm lacing his words. Opting to actually have some fun for once, she gave him a small nod. He left his spot behind her swing and sat down in his own. “How come you never speak to anyone? I swear, you are less sociable than me” She gave a shrug in response, not wanting to reveal that part of her life to him yet. 

The truth was that the girl had horrible anxiety and depression. Her situation wasn’t exceptionally special. For the first fourteen years of her life she had lived in Mount Lavinia. She loved it there. Although it was sunny majority of the time, when it rained it felt like magic. The sky would turn a stunning hue of grey and blue and an earthly smell would fill the air. But life changes. On her fourteenth birthday her parents revealed that they would be moving to the United States. While other kids would be excited at the thought of moving to America, the idea of moving utterly terrified her. She liked the way things were just the way it was. She attended a top notch international school, was in the top of her class, and had reliable friends. So why did her parents want to take it all away? The answer to that was simple. Money; the little green note that dictates nearly every action in one’s life. Who knew such a small piece of paper held such importance? Surely not her. 

While the girl was deep in thought, the boy took in her features. She had a shade of skin that was a little darker than tan, ebony hair that was styled into a bob cut, and sound black eyes. Her lips and nose were petite in contrast to her sharp, high cheekbones. She wasn’t particularly tall but acquired long legs. 

The rain had gradually reduced to the point where it was only slightly drizzling and the sun was peeking from behind the clouds. The girl turned her head in the direction of the boy and they just stared at each other. It wasn’t a stare of intensity or affection. In fact, there was absolutely no emotion involved it. It was simply two strangers looking at each other. 

She looked at the boy, studying his features. She noticed his strong jaw whenever it clenched in irritation, framing his constant neutral expression. He had an uncommon olive complexion with a small birthmark placed above his left eyebrow. Slightly wavy black hair was tousled across the top of his forehead similar to his pitch black eyes. His build was that of a typical teenage boy, toned but not bulky. 

The soft chime of her cell phone broke the tranquil silence. She twisted her swing so she could reach her phone that lay on the ground beside her. She knew her mother was calling her to tell the usual, ‘Hey Ameena. I won’t be able to come home today. Works really piling up and we really need the extra shifts. Dad will be at work too. Foods in the fridge. Love ya.’ Not bothering to answer the call, she pressed decline and gazed at the floor. Tears threatened to escape but she knew she couldn’t break down in front of the boy. She might be seen as annoying and weird, not that she wasn’t already viewed in that light. Opposed to crying, she continued gazing and bit her lip so hard she thought it would start bleeding. 

He immediately knew something was wrong with her and by instinct felt the need to comfort her. 

“Hey, just because I said people find you annoying doesn’t mean that I find you annoying. If you need to cry, go ahead. It’s a judge free zone.” With those words, her tears welled up completely. Those words were definitely not words of consolation. No, those were words of pity, something she absolutely despised especially when directed at her. She bit her lip even harder, a look of exasperation evident. Briskly getting out of the seat, she grabbed her bag and left the park as quickly as she could, this time without anyone stopping her. 

Her hair and clothes were still soaked in rain but she didn’t care. It would dry on the way home anyways. She plugged in her headphones and let the pacifying beats of Mehdi Benjelloun take over her mind. A few tears slipped down her cheeks but that was all. She knew it was better to let her tears run freely in comparison to allowing her favorite steel object dictate her actions. As her house came into her line of sight, she reached into her back pocket and got out her keys, jingling them a bit to successfully enter the house.

She kicked off her shoes, leaving them to dry somewhere in the entrance. She then went down to the basement, stripping off her still wet sweatshirt and put it in the dryer, leaving her in her surprisingly dry t-shirt . Whereas she probably should have heated up some of the food and ate, she chose to stomp up the stairs, roughly open her room door, and throw herself onto her bed. Her duvet basically consumed her which she didn’t mind. Twenty One Pilots began streaming and all thoughts flew out of her head as “Car Radio” played. She used to absolutely hate it, the lyrics sending out a message of negativity. However, as months passed in the foreign country, she had gained an understanding of the song and the lyrics had a new significance in her life. Daresay, the girl felt a strong connection to the song now a days. 

A heavy silence filled the room and she didn’t know whether to appreciate or loathe it. The silence became a bit too much combined with the somber lyrics of “Car Radio”. Her chest began tightening and her throat constricted. The girls vision blurred from lack of air and her fingers felt tingly. Just as she was about to lose her footing, through her hazed vision she caught sight of a metal glint. With small staggered steps towards her bedside table, she grabbed her small blade and sat down on her bed. Just as she had done many times before, she rolled up her sleeves and began making small cuts along her upper arm. She sighed out of relief. The sting, the blood trickling down her arm, it all felt so familiar. She felt at home. The pain that accompanied cutting was one that the girl would gladly take. It was much better than the feeling of dread that followed her everywhere. After her whole upper arm was covered in cuts, some even drying up, she placed her blade between the pages of “The Scarlet Letter” and collapsed on her bed, sleep replacing the negative thoughts that occupied her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

She woke up the next day, her arm sore from the open wounds. She got out of bed and drowsily walked to the bathroom. She didn’t bother to switch the light on, knowing the sight that awaits her. She grabbed a hand towel, soaked it in some water, and pressed it to her wounds. The throbbing sting the pressure caused tempted her to pull out the blade again but she knew that if she harmed herself in the morning she wouldn’t be able to move her arms at all during school. After she brushed her teeth and washed her face, she turned off the water, dragged herself to her closet, and pulled out an oversized black sweatshirt, dark blue skinny jeans, and her signature combat boots. Once she got dressed, she grabbed her bag, plugged in her headphones, and started walking to school.

The sky was a shade of blue that bordered white, and a pleasant breeze prompted a few stray wisps of hair to hinder her sight. Despite the events that had occurred the previous day, the girl was in a better mood than yesterday. the sanguine beats of Petit Biscuit caused an almost unnoticeable smile to play across her face. The morning sun which had appeared a few minutes prior contributed to her mood. It reminded her of her walks along the Mount Lavinia beach shore with her grandfather. He would tell her tales of his childhood, filled with mischief and laughter. Once they had walked the expanse of the shore, he would take her to the donut shop and they would order two choco filled bene’s with chocolate milkshakes. The memories sent a feeling of nostalgia through the girl’s body. “Nostalgia always evolves into dejection,” she thought. Those words had echoed in her mind ever since she boarded the plane to U.S.A. Those were the last words her best friend had spoken to her before she left. 

“You are going to have a new, more exciting life in America. Don’t bother thinking about life here Ameena because you and I both know nostalgia always evolves into dejection.” 

Perhaps her mind was running a million miles per second because she had arrived at school much faster than she would have liked. The hallway was already swarming with students and she knew she would not be able to get to her locker any time before her first class. She didn’t mind really. It was just an excuse to delay the advent of the school day. Instead of pondering the unavoidable, she walked to her first class of the day, history. History was her second favorite class, English being her first. The vast expanse of history her class covered sparked the girls interest in the beginning of the year and it had stayed that way. From the beginnings of Mayan civilization to World War II, history allowed her to enter an alternate reality. She could observe from an outsider’s perspective, the weight of her own reality never putting her down. 

As students began sitting in their respective seats, the girl took out her binder and a pencil to take notes with. She had no choice other than to take her headphones out so she could take notes. Afterall, there was a reason behind her exceptional grades. While no one usually sat behind the girl, today a certain olive skinned boy had chosen to occupy the space. He leaned forward, his elbows supporting his weight, and whispered in the girl's ear.

“I didn’t exactly appreciate you leaving the park without an explanation.” Now if there was anything the girl hated more than pity, it was one’s failure to recognize personal space. And right now, she felt as if her personal space was being invaded. Thus, she gave the boy a harsh push back with her elbow, eliciting a groan of pain from him. 

“Ok, people. Get your binders and pencils out and shut up. It's time to take notes,” her teacher bellowed over the loud teens.

The class settled and a powerpoint was pulled up onto the whiteboard. The rest of the period passed by quickly, stories and pictures of the Holocaust taking up all the time the period offered. The girl rushed out of the class to her next period, strategically avoiding the probable advances of the boy. 

The rest of the school day was a haze to the girl. Although she did well in mathematics and science, the subjects never took up any of her interest. The arrival of English made her time at school much more bearable than one would think. This week’s assignment was to write a piece inspired by events that took place in your life. Grabbing her chromebook, she sat in her seat that was in the far back of the class, right by the windows. The view the windows offered made her love the class even more. The soft green of the grass was a sharp contrast to the dark brown of the tree trunks that took up the area outside. Although the scene was no rival to the ones of her home country, it was enough to put her in the right mood to write. 

And so she began. She wrote it all from dancing in the rain to the start of self harm. Of course, it was written from the female character’s perspective. She wouldn’t dare let anyone know her true feelings, even if it was only her teacher. She kept typing ferociously, until she felt the all too well known tightening in her chest and her fingers began shaking. She stopped before a full blown panic attack emerged. In spite of the tiny bit of anguish the memories caused, the girl couldn’t help but feel a little better. Ultimately, writing was her own way of letting go and holding on. It hurt her and helped her. It provided her the sort of bittersweet high she needed. 

The shrill ring of the bell signalled the end of the period. The girl packed up her bag and put her chromie away in its rightful slot. After waiting for the rest of the class to exit she left as well. Her mind was completely empty with the exception of the kasbo remix that played in her ears. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder, bringing her movement to a halt. Startled by the presence, she dropped her phone, a loud clang reverberating through the quiet hallway. She turned to face the boy who had oh-so-rudely disrupted her alone time. Unsurprisingly, there he stood, black bag slung over his shoulder and headphones dangling over the collar of his shirt. 

“Sorry for scaring you,” he bent over and picked up her phone. “Want to go to the park with me?”

Not wanting to deal with him anymore, the girl yanked her phone from his hand, plugged her headphones into the jack, and looped them through her sweatshirt, safely concealing them from the view of others. After pulling her hood up, she left the building, the boy tailing her as she walked. The girl wondered why he had took such an interest in her. Prior to her little breakdown in class, the boy had done nothing short of a slight head nod directed towards the girl. She was accustomed to the lack of regard and even preferred it that way. Even her own teachers forgot to mark her down when they took attendance.  
Even though her attempts at speed walking had bought her a little alone time, her legs had started hurting and she had to slow down. Thus, the boy caught up with her and they walked at a set pace, the only things they glanced at being the sky and the trees that surrounded the area. Once she reached her house, they both stopped. Just like every other day she knew the house would be devoid of her parents presence, their jobs being far too important in comparison to the needs of their child. She weighed her options; while staying at home could potentially lead to other activities, what harm could the park bring? Although she would rather occupy the swings by herself, she knew the boy was heading there anyway. So she kept walking, the boy by her side wearing a mask of indifference, a complete flip from his newfound clinginess. 

The girl peered up at him, noticing the tears collecting in the corner of his eyes. While any normal person would have attempted to console him, the girl settled for diverting her eyes from the scene and hope he could sort himself out. In spite of her experience with breakdowns, she was never able to emotionally support another person, let alone a person she had technically begun speaking to yesterday. She thanked whatever higher power there was because just as a tear was about to fall from the boy’s eye, they had arrived at the park. She sprinted to the swings and sat herself down. The boy sat down beside her, exerting enough force from his foot to swing lazily in the air. The girl felt pity for the boy. It was clear that he was struggling with something, yet didn’t know how to convey his emotions. 

“How ironic,” she thought. “Here I am, judging him when I barely understand myself.” She rotated her swing so she could see the boy and shot him a questioning look. It was her own way of asking what’s wrong. He simply shrugged in return, not really wanting to elaborate on it. The girl left him to his own devices and began to wander the depths of her own mind. She rather enjoyed the silence that had enveloped the park. As usual, it was completely deserted given the fact that it was located in the far end of town which was uninhabited by any residents. It was rare that anyone came here when there was a much more updated and modern park located in the center of town. Though the other park was newer, there was just something about the sight of the rusty swings surrounded by autumn leaves that the girl was absolutely smitten with. She was not the only one who was fascinated by the park it seemed. 

The boy had been coming to the park since he was a little boy. His fondness of the park had actually bloomed from his parents forbidding him from entering the park simply because there was no one on that side of town. At first he had listened, being the obedient child he was. But things change, don’t they? He did not come from a picture perfect family. Behind those forced smiles and awkward hugs that one would perceive as affection lay a burning hatred a young child could not understand. It was common for his house to be filled with screaming, the sound of punches, and objects being thrown from one side of the room to the other. That was when he started coming to the park. When the screaming and fighting became too much for him to handle. When all he wanted was the quiet. As a young boy, he would come and sit on the swings for hours, wondering why he couldn’t have a normal family. All the other kids had parents that seemed to like each other, “Maybe it’s my fault,” the little boy thought. “Maybe if I played outside like all the other boys instead of reading, daddy would be less angry and he wouldn’t hurt mummy so much.”As the years passed by, the little boy grew up, a cracked yet determine teen replacing him. He had took matters into his own hands. His mother seemed to hold onto the dysfunctional marriage, scared that if she told her own parents what was going on, they would judge her. So the abuse continued. He remembered everything; the crimson bruises that littered his mother’s face and body after his father came home from work, the loud screams that somehow escaped him begging his father to stop hurting his mother, and the tears falling down his mother's face as she held in her pain, instead telling him and his sister to go to their rooms and lock the door. 

The night of his thirteenth birthday is when events took a turn for the better. As usual, his father had come home after work, drunk, immediately attacking his mother for the bruises that covered her neck; bruises that were the results of his violent rages.

“You whore! Who are you sleeping with? I didn’t know I had a slut for a wife!” His mother never responded, knowing that if she did the beating would only be ten times worse. The boy carried his little sister away from the loud slaps and grunts of pain that echoed in the livingroom. They entered his room and he put her to bed, trying his best to stop her cries of confusion and fear. He grabbed his headphones and connected it to his laptop. He hastily pulled up an audio of rain and told his sister to listen to it. Within seconds the little girl was asleep, a calm smile on her face. Crouching under his bed, he grabbed the landline which he had stashed before his father had come home. With shaky fingers he dialed 911.

“Nine-one-one operator. What is your emergency?" 

“I need help. My f-father is b-b-beating up m-my mother and he w-won’t stop.”

“Where are you?”

“S-seventy one F-f-franklin Avenue, Damerel”

“What is your name?” By now the helpless shrieks of his mother were completely audible to the operator.

“R-raiden Dean.” 

“Don’t hang up . Help is on the way.” The calm operator continued asking questions pertaining to the situation, some of which he could not even answer. 

The sound of sirens could be heard from outside his house and the boy exhaled a shaky breath of relief. Harsh knocks on the door put a stop to the beating in the living room. The boy walked to his door with small, quiet steps and stealthily opened it. The commotion in the living room was impossible to ignore. The sight he was presented with was enough for tears to form in the corners of his eyes, some escaping. His mother was cowering away in the corner as police invaded the living room while his father was being handcuffed. A young looking officer approached him and began questioning him. Despite being shaken up from the tiresome events that occurred, the boy answered all the questions coherently. 

From the corner of his eyes he caught sight of his mother, now standing up with a smile gracing her lips as she sees her pathetic excuse of a husband being hauled away. 

The boy allowed himself to smile as he recalled the bittersweet memory. 

Meanwhile, the girl had been watching the boy gyrate in his swing for forty five minutes. His facial expressions had been fascinating to watch; first being stoic, then melancholy, and lastly happy. Deciding to be a little adventurous, the girl snuck up behind his swing and gave his back a powerful push forward. Snapping out of his trance, he steadied himself before he could fall completely.

“What the hell was that for?” he questioned, annoyance laced in his voice. 

“For fun” she answered back, her voice barely above a whisper. She pulled down her sleeves slightly, his constant staring making her uncomfortable. When she looked up, his features had softened, a genuine smile replacing his irritated expression. 

“You know, I was beginning to think you are mute.” He walked up to her, the autumn leaves crunching underneath his shoes, and sat her down her on the swing. He then proceeded to grab the swing chains, pulling them all the way back along with the girl, and let go. She let out a scream of exhilaration as she was launched into the air. 

As the girl let herself go in the euphoria of the moment, the boy pondered the reasons why she wasn’t like this in class. The smile, the small yelps of excitement, the hint of playfulness in her tone; it was as if it all disappeared once the school day started. While those who knew him outside the confines of school could say the same about him, he didn’t really have a reason for his change in attitude. People wanted to be his friend, he just didn’t want to make friends. In a way he thought of them as an inconvenience. Besides, he knew the people of his grade only cared about their social lives. Grades were the last of their concerns. There was only one other person who shared his attitude in regards to socializing. 

The boy chuckled as he remembered the first day of school. The hall was buzzing with enthusiastic teens as they reunited with friends they had lost touch with over the summer. The news of a new student spread throughout the grade like a wildfire. Nearly everybody was talking about it. It was rare that the school received a new student. An unfamiliar face entered the school. Not bothering to converse with anyone, she pushed through the crowd, eyes cast to the floor and headphones blocking out the obnoxious chatter of the students. Glancing once at her crumpled up schedule, she walked to her first class. Small steps echoed through the empty history wing and the boy looked up from his copy of Weep No More My Lady. It was extremely uncommon for anyone to come to class this early apart from himself. The boy concluded it must be the new student everyone had been talking about. When he looked up he was presented with the sight of an indifferent face. Her face was devoid of any emotion and it was obvious that the headphones in her ears was deterring her from acknowledging his existence. She tightly gripped her copy of The Blind Assassin, uncertainty radiating off her in waves as her eyes landed on the boy, Instead of talking to him, she seated herself on the floor besides the classroom door, opening her book, and letting herself fall into the world of Iris Chase. 

His daze of memories was interrupted when he heard a loud thud. He looked to his left, seeing the girl on the ground, on her side as she clutched her arm. Without even bothering to ask her if she was alright, he roughly grabbed her and sat her up straight. 

“Why are you so damn clumsy? God, you literally can’t go five seconds without falling.” She didn’t respond, that same face of indifference resurfacing. Sure, it hurt. It hurt a lot but she was used to it by now. She could feel the blood trickling down her arms, her dry wounds now opened. “Is your arm okay? You took a pretty hard fall.” Not waiting for her answer, he took her arm and attempted to roll up the sleeves of her hoodie. Her eyes widened and she scrambled up from her position on the floor, fear that he would see the wounds flooding her mind. “Hey, I just wanted to see if your arm was bruised,” he said in a suspicious tone. “Is there something you are hiding?’

“N-no. I just don’t like people touching me,” she responded in a faint voice. “I have to go.” With that said, she grabbed her bag and dashed out of the park, not even giving the boy a chance to process what had happened.


	3. Chapter 3

Her heart was beating erratically and her left arm was now covered in blood. “He almost found out. That was so close.” She reached her house in a matter of minutes and ran up the stairs and into her bedroom. Making sure to lock her door in case her parents came home early, she stripped off her sweatshirt and examined her arm. Some of the wounds had opened up due to the impact of the fall and streaks of blood were dribbling down her arm. Rushing into the bathroom, she compressed the wounds with a towel, tying it around her arm. After the bleeding had stopped, she put plasters on any injured areas.

Despite the never ending fear of someone finding out she was hurting herself, the girl continued. The pain was just so addictive. Her own little safe haven because no one could take the pain away. Not even if they wanted to.

She opened her closet, getting her favorite oversized lilac sweater and slipping it on. While most of her clothes were in the darker range, she couldn’t help but find comfort in the bright colored piece of clothing, mostly because it was gifted by her grandfather. Not wanting to fall asleep yet, the girl went downstairs and into her kitchen, eating a few slices of pizza. She knew her parents wouldn’t be home until the next morning, her mum taking more shifts at the hospital as a nurse and her dad working overtime at the office. She took advantage of the empty house and connected her headphones to the speakers. “4 O’Clock” blared through the speakers. The girl immediately lowered the volume enough so the music filled the living room, creating an unperturbed atmosphere, perfect for homework. She quickly grabbed her backpack from her room and made herself comfortable on the settee. She breezed through her geometry problems, not even needing to use a calculator. With nothing left to do, she took Tale of two Cities, resuming from where she left off. After a few pages, she felt her body sink deeper into the settee and her eyelids fluttered close, heavy with fatigue. 

The girl was woken up by the booming bass that accompanied “So Far Away”. Through her haze of sleepiness the girl realized it was now night, sunlight no longer streaming through the windows. Deciding that she could use a walk, the girl got up, put on her combat boots, and threw on a light jacket. After grabbing her house keys she left. 

She automatically started walking in the direction of the park. It wasn’t very dark outside. The sky was colored a navy blue and the moon was barely visible, a few clouds hiding it. There weren’t any stars as far as the girl could see. Then again, her eyesight wasn’t very good, explaining the large glasses that were always settled at the tip of her nose. Her mind was filled too many things; the boy, her best friend, her grandfather’s death anniversary. She knew a walk certainly wasn’t enough for the thoughts that occupied her mind. That’s why she went to the park; she could think for hours on end without the questioning stares of her peers or parents. 

Soon enough she had arrived, a familiar figure looming by the oak trees. She didn’t expect him to be here this late. Opening the park gates, she walked over to the boy, the soft crunch of leaves underneath the soles of her shoes, magnifying her actions. The figure turned around and as she thought, it was him. He was now in a light grey sweatshirt that had Knights printed across the chest area and a pair of black joggers which emphasized his lean legs. The girl plopped herself next to the boy, her back sliding against the coarse tree trunk. 

“Why are you here this late? Aren’t your parents worried?” he asked while sitting down. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied in a small voice, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“Witty aren’t we? You are actually talking to me. I wish you could be more loud though. It’s kind of hard having to strain my ears every time you actually make a sound.”

“You get what you get,” she mumbled while letting her head rest against the trunk. “So, why are you here?”

“I will tell you the answer to that the minute you tell me why you don’t speak at school.”

“And you can get the answer to that when you tell me why you suddenly acknowledge my existence.” 

“You really get around questions don’t you?” The boy’s tone was one of utter annoyance. 

“So do you,” she replied. A thick silence filled up the park, each teen irritated by the other.

Breaking the silence, the boy responded. “You are so different. Everyone is always trying to please someone else but you really don’t care about what others think. It’s refreshing.” The girl didn’t know what to say. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Everyone wants to be friends with you,” the girl said while she turned to face the boy. “But you choose to be by yourself. Why?”

“You’re an observant one.” A grin crossed his face. “To answer your question, I have the same reasons as you. Let’s face it. Everyone at school cares about the futile things. Who cares how many likes you get on your instagram post. It’s not going to impact your future. I would rather enjoy the genuine, real parts of life.”

“Bona fide” 

“Yeah, bona fide. You are the first person I have met who actually knows what it means.”  
“So, answer my question. Why are you here?” The girl stood up and took off her jacket, preferring to feel the chill of the night air. 

“To be honest,” the boy said while getting up and walking to the swings, “It’s where I come to-”

“Think,” she finished off the sentence for him. 

“Pretty much, yeah.” He turned in the direction of the girl, noticing the lilac sweater that she wore. Blinking a few times, he spluttered, “Are you wearing something that is not black?”

“Yes. Now shut the fuck up,” the girl answered, tilting her head to look at the blanket of stars that now covered the dark blue sky. “Pretty,” she mumbled under her breath. 

The boy nodded his head in agreement, staring at the sky dreamily. “Is your arm okay. You took a pretty hard fall today.”

“O-oh. Yeah, I’m fine.” She returned her gaze to the sky, afraid that he would press further about the events that had occurred earlier in the day. The girl certainly didn’t need anyone worrying about her. Reaching into the pocket of her jeans, she pulled out her phone and headphones. As she was about to plug her headphones in, the boy stopped her.

“Do you mind streaming your music out loud? I forgot my headphones at home and I’m getting bored.”

“Uh-uhm,” she stuttered. Her music was her own temporary refuge from the realities of the world and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to share that with another person. 

“No one’s going to hear it. I mean, we are on the other side of town and nobody lives here. Please!” he begged in a whiny voice. The sudden difference in personality surprised the girl.

“Fine.” She pulled out her headphones from her phone, stuffing them once again into her pocket. Pulling up soundcloud on her phone, she scrolled through her playlist to find a song that he would like. Engrossed in her search to find a song, the girl didn’t notice when the boy creeped up next to her, allowing him to grab the phone out of her hands swiftly. 

“Hey, give it back!” she screamed, irritation evident in her voice. 

“Nice playlist. Or should I say playlists,” he commented, “Holy shit! These playlists have over fucking four hundred songs. How long did it take you to compile it?”  
“Just give my phone back,” the girl groaned. 

Dismissing her demand, he continued scrolling through her playlists. “You have everything in these playlists; My Chemical Romance, Khalid, Cade. Didn’t think you would like a-ha though.”

Having had enough of the latter’s commentary, she walked up to him, her face now showing nothing but seriousness. “If you don’t give me my phone back at this very moment, I swear to fucking god, I will punch you,”

“Hmmm, how about no,” he responded nonchalantly.

She curled her fingers into a fist. “You asked for it,” was all she said before she punched him right below the sternum, effectively pushing him back and knocking the air out of him. The boy fell to the ground, phone still in hand. As she reached down to pick her phone up, he scrambled into an upright position, still regaining his breath. 

“You don’t kid around, do you?” he asked in between breaths as he watched her dust her phone off. 

“Sometimes.” She tapped her phone multiple times, finally deciding on “Pumped Up Kicks.”

As the song began, she walked back to the swing, sitting down and pushing herself off the ground. An involuntary blush had formed as her face was flush with the crisp night air.

“You never answered my question.” the boy stated.

“And which one would that be?”

“Why don’t you talk to anyone in school?”

“It’s just easier that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it,” the girl said as she steered her swing to face the boy, “What’s the point in talking. Making friends isn’t going to help me in the future. Everyone in that school are just leeches. They cling onto you, get the best out of you, and move on with their own lives. I’m just sparing myself the trouble.”

“Interesting theory. So am I just another one of those leeches?” the boy questioned as he leaned closer to the girl.

“What you are,” she cleared her throat, “is way too close for my liking. Now unless you want to be punched again, I suggest moving back.”

He shifted back, “Okay, no need for violence.” A pleasant stillness was established, an unspoken agreement to simply enjoy the voice of Ginette Claudette in full effect. The night sky was unquestionably a sight to see but what the two teens enjoyed the most was something far from visual. There was something special about the freedom granted when they stepped into the gated park. Closed off from the world yet just in reach of reality. With every passing breeze and rustle of leaves, purpose was brought alive in the slightest of ways. In this park, she was not a girl who suffered from self harm and depression and he was not a boy who had to call the cops on his own father. They were just two people who had dreams and a future; the past being an unwanted unknown. The hours passed by as the two reveled in the feeling of nothingness.

“Do you ever wish you could go back to the past?” the girl asked as she shifted her head to rest against the swing chains.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because the past isn’t as pretty as we like to think it is.” His short and curt reply indicated that he wanted the subject to be closed, the girl obliging, not wanting to push him past his boundaries.  
She checked her phone, seeing it was nearing midnight. Though she knew her parents would not be home to check on her, she still had school the next day. 

“It’s nearly midnight,” she said quietly.

“I know.”

“I have to go home. We have school tomorrow so you should probably head home too.”

“As much as I don’t want to say you’re right,” he sighed, brushing off the back of his pants, “you’re right. We should go.”

“We?” she timidly questioned while she zipped up her jacket, her sweater paws still visible.

“Yes, we. Your house is three blocks from mine. I walk by your house anyways, so might as well walk together.” His voice was light hearted once again, easing the girl’s nerves.

“Then let’s go.” The duo left the park, each teen wondering about the other before pushing the thoughts to the back of their minds. The walk home was shorter than she would have liked it to be but the feeling of sleepiness outweighed any ideas of staying up any later.

“Good night Ameena,” he said languidly, lightly shoving her in the direction of her door. 

“Night,” she replied before letting herself in. She trudged up the stairs and threw herself at her bed, falling asleep immediately. 

Meanwhile, the boy continued his short walk home, experiencing worry for the first time in his fifteen years of life. He knew there was something wrong with her today. He could sense the hesitation in her voice when he asked about her arm. There was obviously something bigger going on that he wasn’t quite sure of. “It’s not even my place to worry. She isn’t my problem.” That last thought lingering in his head, he walked the pathway to his house and unlocked the door. Making sure to be quiet, he walked into the living room. His sister was snuggled into a corner of the couch, her small figure nearly swallowed up by the couch cushion. In spite of the loud sounds and bright light the television emitted, the little girl continued sleeping contentedly.   
Softly chuckling, he turned off the television and picked up the little girl. Stirring awake, the little girl looked around.

“Raiden,” she mumbled sleepily against his shoulders.

“Shh, go to sleep Emi. It’s really late in the night.” he whispered as he stroked the back of his sister's head soothingly. Walking into her room, he tucked her in and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Slipping out the little girl’s room silently, he walked into his own. His room was rather simple consisting only of a twin bed, a worn out wooden dresser, a desk, and a tall bookcase which was overflowing with books. Changing into a white undershirt and pajama pants and grabbing his headphones off the dresser, he plopped himself on his bed, exhaustion finally catching up to him. He pulled up his favorite playlist, oddly enough being the one he listened to in order to fall asleep. It consisted of only a few songs that would make him drowsy. What made the playlist special was the last song. Actually, it was more accurately described as an audio. The soft sounds of rain was what he fell asleep to everyday. He lay on his back, headphones in, managing to stay awake until that very last track played.


End file.
